The Spell in the Storm

3

Jorden's POV

We all turn when we hear the doors open. 

It’s become a habit by now. The doors hardly ever open, and whenever we hear them, we turn to see what comes through and what goes out. We wait for our chance to escape.

None of us have ever escaped.

Peyton tried when he first got here. Fought the soldiers off with his magic, ran through the halls like a gale. He almost made it. But then the woman, Anika, shot him in the legs with those horrible glowing bullets. She tied him up as he screamed in pain, and dragged him back to the hospital. 

He hasn’t attempted since. 

Asher and Jayr tried to escape together. They were best friends when they came here, so they tried to leave together too. Asher summoned lightning to strike at Anika when she tried to shoot them, summoned wind to push the bullets off course, summoned wolves to attack the soldiers. Jayr put some of the soldiers to sleep. 

But they still got caught. They still got bound with those glowing ropes. Anika still laughed as they were dragged to their rooms and tied to their beds. 

I simply watched all of it happen. I have never tried to escape. I saw the other three boys fail, and I will not fail. I will wait as long as it takes. I will not get struck with those horrible glowing ropes and bullets. 

The training stops immediately as we all hear the doors open. As one, the others and I turn towards the doors, awaiting whatever will come through.

None of us are prepared.

An entire group of soldiers walk through the doors. They surround a struggling form. I flinch when I see that the person is bound almost head to toe in the glowing ropes. A sack is over their head. Rope binds their neck, wrists, elbows, knees, ankles. More wrap around their shoulders, ribs, hips, chest. One thick one runs across their eyes over the hood.

Ten ropes. 

Ten. 

The most it’s taken to subdue one of us is two. 

And this person is still fighting. 

As the soldiers approach our small training group, I can feel the power of the struggling person. It caresses my skin, my muscles, my bones. My soul. I immediately feel better, safer. Like the light has finally touched my broken heart.

The sudden urge to kneel comes over me. The voice inside my head, silky soft, whispers, The prince has come. I want to roll my eyes. What prince? I hiss back at Sar. He doesn’t answer immediately. He never does. 

I look at the other three. All of them look peaceful, soft. Jayr is already kneeling, his blonde hair falling into his gray eyes. Asher is halfway there, a cheetah circling his body, pushing against his legs. Peyton’s legs are shaking, and he locks eyes with me. 

An understanding passes between us. We will not kneel. Not for some prince that we don’t know. Even as our bodies, and the aliens within them, fight to make us bend our knees. 

The group of soldiers stops before us. I look across them, at the struggling form. The hooded face rises, and I feel like he’s staring at me. Right into my soul. My prince, Sar whispers again. I actually roll my eyes this time. 

“Where’s Anika?” Brian asks, stepping forward. The combat instructor doesn’t look like he’d know how to fight. He’s slim, tall, with a bushy beard and wire-rim glasses. But I’ve seen him put Peyton on his ass multiple times. And Peyton is gifted with fighting magic. 

The group of soldiers look around uneasily. One of them finally steps forward and says, “She’s dead.” 

Brian doesn’t even flinch. But I look around at the others, and see my feelings reflected back at me on each of their faces.